


To the Dregs

by inkforhumanhands



Series: Daredevil Ficlets [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: AKA everyone still thinks Matt is dead, Alternate Universe - Magic, Ficlet, Gen, Necromancy, Post-Defenders/Pre-Season 3, Witchcraft, maybe he actually is dead in this universe? I haven't decided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26330794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkforhumanhands/pseuds/inkforhumanhands
Summary: Matt may have been buried a mile deep under Midland Circle, and Foggy and Karen may have been stuck in the denial stage of grief as much as he didn’t like to admit it, but God himself be damned if He thought they wouldn’t try every last thing to get him back.
Relationships: Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page
Series: Daredevil Ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880257
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	To the Dregs

**Author's Note:**

> done to fill the prompt "magic" for Writer's Month 2020

Matt may have been buried a mile deep under Midland Circle, and Foggy and Karen may have been stuck in the denial stage of grief as much as he didn’t like to admit it, but God himself be damned if He thought they wouldn’t try every last thing to get him back. That was the simple explanation for how Foggy and Karen had ended up in the sitting room of a dingy old house in upstate New York, anyway.

Foggy glanced at Karen to see her nervously fingering her bracelet. He wasn’t exactly at peace himself, and he tugged the knot of his tie down a bit before wondering why he’d bothered with one. Surely there wasn’t a dress code for meeting with witches.

The clatter of shaky porcelain sounded from the other room, startling both of them. Seconds later, the tiny old woman who’d opened her door to them creaked towards where they sat on the couch, a tea tray in her arms. Karen leapt up to help her place it down on the coffee table, and Foggy felt a twinge of annoyance at himself for not thinking to do the same.

“Help yourself to the milk and sugar, dears.” The witch gestured towards the two ornate containers accompanying the cups full of tea.

They did so in uncomfortable silence, not sure of the social protocol involved in asking someone to resurrect their friend. Heck, Foggy didn’t believe in magic to begin with, and he’d be surprised if Karen did either. Yet here they were. Matt was going to cry himself to death laughing when he crawled out of whatever shadows he was hiding in. Because he wasn’t dead; he couldn’t be. But all the same, just in case.

It was Karen who spoke first. “So, we um, we heard that you have…abilities.”

The witch nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

“Our friend…we were wondering if you could help us with him,” she started to explain.

“Matthew Murdock, yes.”

Foggy and Karen shared a quick look. They hadn’t told her his name. “How much do you know?” Foggy asked warily.

The witch smiled at him. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She didn’t quite seem sorry to Foggy, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. “Maybe it’s the old age but to be honest with you it gets rather tedious trying to get customers to explain what they need in the way that I need them to. So I cast a charm on my front door to listen to you in my place.”

“I…see.” Foggy didn’t see. Actually, he was pretty sure the “listening” the witch referred to wasn’t the standard dictionary definition, because he and Karen definitely hadn’t spoken about Matt—or about anything—out loud. “You know what we want then? To bring him back?”

Without waiting for the witch to answer, Karen blurted, “Can you do it?”

The witch set her tea down. “Yes.”

A jolt of anxiety-flavored hope shot through Foggy’s stomach at this. He almost didn’t want to hope, but there it was against all his misgivings. Karen must have felt the same, because he saw her wipe furtively at the corner of her eye.

“What do you need us to do?” Karen asked.

“Drink your tea.” Her tone was firm.

“Wha-” Karen began but was immediately shushed.

Foggy stared down at the tea remaining in his cup with unease. It could be roofied. There could be a spell on it. There was _definitely_ a spell on it. But he wasn’t sure he cared as long as it got them Matt back. He locked eyes with Karen. They drank to the dregs.


End file.
